


Reciprocity

by Lyonface



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bi!Jumin Han, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonface/pseuds/Lyonface
Summary: Jumin Han goes away on a business trip to Germany to complete a business deal that has cost him more than just his time, but also his peace of mind and his happiness. While there he is faced with a stranger in his hotel room that presents him with an opportunity he's been looking for, but can he take it?Or: AU where Jumin eventually gives into his father, Rika is medicated and owns a brothel instead of a cult, and Saeran is a willing participant.





	1. Chapter 1

                Even in the nicest hotels, the ones that soared above many of the city lights, looming over the busy streets and pedestrians as monoliths to human ingenuity, there remained the unfortunate if not inevitable fact that the weakness of the human mind remained. Despite the advances of the species towards the ever expected singularity of man and machine, until they could rid individuals of their flaws and the mental faculties that only served to hamper them, they would remain beyond the reach of becoming a perfect being in both work aptitude and awareness.

                A breathy, aborted sound caught Jumin’s attention, plucking him from his pondering and pulling him back into the dimly lit fourteenth floor room he was renting for his business trip. The lighting was less to hide the contents of its interiors from the outside, but to muddle the features of each individual from the other that occupied the space, if more for mood than anything else. His eyes swiveled away from the large floor-to-ceiling windows peering out across the cityscape and the far off mountains, no longer visible now that the only lights outside were those lit by gas and halogen. He focused instead on the source of the sound, a presence he hadn’t forgotten about but had simply become so disinterested in that he failed to register that she was still trying to do her job, despite his boredom and obvious detachment. Really, though, with how routine her technique was, it was a wonder he could stay invested even minutes after she took him into her mouth. All the pretty Dior skirts and hair color treatments could only serve to mask a boring effort, and he supposed that she had done this so many times that it was boring for her, too. Still, a little enthusiasm for her profession would be nice. We all had to fake enthusiasm for our jobs every now and again, and he was a paying customer. It shouldn’t matter to him that she might find sucking cocks a little dull; that idea shouldn’t even be something that crosses his mind. He frowned slightly, watching her head bob up and down mechanically.

                With a short huff through his nose, Jumin shifted in his chair and reached up to press his palm over her head, stopping her. She paused, eyes opening as her lips slacked their hold around his shaft, looking up at him with her dark-colored eyes. With care, he pushed her off of him to sit on her knees, a confused and somewhat weary look on her face. When he made a move to tuck himself back into his trousers, she only became more lost, if a little alarmed.

                “But—.”

                “I’m going to pay you, and you’re going to leave.”

                Her brow furrowed further. “You want me to just leave.”  It wasn’t a question, but she was dubious.

                Her countenance changed then, slipping back into the sultry demeanor expected of people in her line of work. “You must be tired from all the work you’re doing. Do you want me to come back later, sir?” she asked with a forced smile, pressing her manicured fingers in a slow arc on his inner thighs.

                Pitching her voice was a bit late in this regard and he could already tell he’d offended her, though in what way he wasn’t sure. Luckily for him, he also didn’t much care.

                “No.”

                She pressed her lips together in a line, withdrawing her hands and wiping at the saliva on her chin with a quick swipe as she sat back on her heels, shiny shoes bumping up her position to sit higher. “If you want me to do something else, I can—.” To her credit, she was trying. Maybe she’d realized her folly and was trying to regain the ground she’d lost.

                He zipped up his pants as his expression remained stoic and disinterested, the gesture and sound enough to answer her question. She seemed to recognize what the expression meant and looked away, face pinched in embarrassment with a bit of shame spreading over her face. She stood with a huff, spinning to go and grab her purse from the bed, her wavy hair flinging behind her in an arc as she does. Her dress shined against the low lighting, mostly from the blinking lights that still came in through the outside, tight around her hips and obscenely short, another thing Jumin hadn’t much cared for, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected. He never remembered to request something more modest when he called, it never mattered that much. Same package, different dressing.

                Her voice came again, breaking the ambient sounds of the city that tried to filter through the thick glass of the balcony doors. “Every single time you come here and it’s the same fucking thing!” she exclaimed, turning back to him, any attempts at remaining in his good graces dashed the second his rejection was final. “If you don’t like me then why do you keep asking for me?!”

                Jumin finished buttoning his pants and stood from the chair, adjusting the sleeves on his shirt as he answered, more interested in the state of his dress than her by this point. “I like routine.”

                She blinked, caught off guard by that answer. “Wh-? That’s--! That’s so--!”

                His patience was wearing thin. “Do you always speak this way to your customers?”

                She pressed her lips together again, averting her gaze even as the anger continued to roll off of her in waves.

                Jumin walked over to the bedside table and retrieved his briefcase from between it and the bed and placed it on top of the plush, intricately patterned comforter, unzipping a small compartment and fishing out a folded envelope. He opened it and thumbed through the currency, pausing a moment as he adjusted to the foreign bill quantity in his head before pulling out the correct amount.

                “Why do you even ask for me if you don’t like me? That doesn’t make any sense.” she grumbled, hissing the question through her teeth.

                His mouth thinned. Hadn’t he already answered that question? “I didn’t realize you were this dense. I don’t like repeating myself,” he replied, turning back to her with her payment in hand.

                She wrinkled her nose at him, untangling a lock of her hair from her expensive, dangling earrings with a swift jerk, using it to gesture as she spoke. “Are you a robot or something? It’s always the same thing every time. You come up here every few months and call, you ask for me, and you never even—!”

                Jumin approached her and took her hand in midair, bringing it down toward him. She stiffened and resisted before he pressed the folded bills into her open palm, the sight of payment for her troubles relaxing her just a bit, even if her face kept that unattractive, pinched expression.

                “I wasn’t aware you wanted constructive criticism.”

                She huffed and jerked her hand out of his grasp, snapping her pocket book open and shoving the money inside.

                His silver eyes settled on her face. “There. You have your money, isn’t that all that matters?” he said, immediately turning back toward the bed instead of waiting for an answer.

                Either she didn’t realize that the question had been rhetorical, or she didn’t care. “The next time you decide to call I’m not gonna be the one to show up, even if you ask for me!”

                He crooked an eyebrow, annoyance edging on amusement at her attempts to wedge a thorn in his heel by toting a sense of pride she didn’t have. He continues to face away when he answers, returning to place the envelope back where he’d gotten it. “Is that threat supposed to hold some sort of weight?”

                A muted growl came from behind him, followed swiftly by a slamming door. Unperturbed, Jumin reached under the lamp and turned it on, illuminating the clean, well-furnished room before he walked over toward the chair he’d moved to accommodate her appointment and placed it back in the corner where he’d found it. Glancing at the time and realizing that he had spaced out during the blow job longer than he thought he had, he hurriedly picked up his phone and unlocked it, checking for any missed calls or messages. There weren’t any. He let out a dejected hum. His assistant hadn’t contacted him since his plane landed and she should have by now, but then again, it was likely good that he hadn’t heard from her. It meant that the company was doing fine in his absence, or at least his department was doing fine. Or she was delayed because there _were_ problems, but he trusted her to make time to call him if that were the case.

                Before he could even put his phone down, it started to buzz in his hand. He squinted at the caller ID that popped up and frowned, considering letting it go to voicemail and not even bothering with it before a second call came in. The new one was his assistant, so he opted for it as a good excuse, letting the first go and answering the second. Despite finding her voice entirely unpleasant, this was a much better alternative.

                He pressed the phone to his ear and turned to look out the balcony. “Assistant Kang.”

                There was a brief sound of the receiver moving against a soft surface before she answered. “Mr. Han. Have you settled in?” She sounded awake at the very least. What time was it there? He looked at his clock again. Hmm, eight o’clock in the morning?

                “Yes. The hotel managed to book the correct room this time.”

                He heard the sound of a car door opening, the chime inside the car, and then the door closing.

                “Don’t drive while speaking on the phone,” he chided.

                She sighed. “You don’t need to worry. I’m just getting out of the rain.”

                He hummed in answer, deciding standing out on the balcony would be a nice alternative to staying inside the room. As he opened the sliding door to step out, she continued.

                “The client that was interested in joining our company that we rejected last year has started calling again," she said.

                It took Jumin a moment to gather what she was referring to, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on the plush, outdoor furniture, protected from the elements by an overhang. “Oh. The luxury boat liner?”

                “Yes.”

                He scoffed, “That’s a shame. Unless he’s managed to settle that outstanding lawsuit and manage his egregious liability issues he won’t be hearing from C&R, let alone any company he’s tried to weasel his way into to pay for his problems.”

                “The lawsuit appears to have been settled out of court, but we would need to do another asset reassessment—.”

                “In other words, the lawsuit ended quietly with no records he would likely hand over to us and none existing in the public sphere that we can look at on our own.”

                She didn’t seem irritated that he had interrupted her. “…that’s correct.”

                “Then I must assume that the lawsuit was settled privately because they were guilty of the malfunctioning equipment they were being accused of.”

                 “That is…the safest course of action, but that isn’t always the case.” He heard a soft flap and the sound of her drinking something. Coffee, likely.

                “Then I won’t be returning his calls. You don’t need to entertain him; it’s a waste of your time and the company’s time.” He sighs as he settles down in his seat, looking out over the skyline and enjoying the constant breeze that comes from being so high up, even if it was slight and still smelled of pavement and standing rain water. “I’m uninterested in such risky endeavors.”

                He could practically hear her frown.  “Your eccentric cat projects notwithstanding...”

                His answer was quick and practiced. “Elizabeth the 3rd’s comfort and entertainment are worth whatever time and money it takes to make her life as happy as I am able. Besides, that’s my money, not the company’s.”

                She sighed again. “Even though they rarely ever find significant returns?”

                He frowned, his impatience rising again. “It doesn’t involve C&R in any of it, and you get paid for your extra time.” He paused, shifting in his seat, bring his leg up to perch his ankle on top of his knee. “Are we finished?”

                “…I suppose.”

                Thankful that particular recurring conversation was finally over, he moved on. “What else?”

                There was a moment of hesitant silence. “Your—I mean… Annika came to the office this morning.”

                The jetlag seemed to hit him all of a sudden and he reached up, pressing his fingers against his eyes. The image of that woman’s unhappy frown spurred immediately to his mind, and assaulting his eyes didn’t seem to help in ridding himself of it.

                She continued, “You didn’t tell her you were going to Germany?”

                He knew this would happen, but he didn’t expect her to find out so soon. “I fail to see why it matters,” he responds in a gravely tone.

                Her response was disbelieving, if a little chastising, “It _is_ a trip for her family’s company. She was quite upset that you didn’t let her come with you.”

                “She’s upset when I don’t let her come with me no matter where I go. This trip is no different.”

                Her voice turned a tad softer, and there was sympathy in her voice. It wasn’t a sound he heard often. “Mr. Han…”

                He sighed, letting his hand fall, opening his eyes to look up at the sky, the light of the city making the starlight almost impossible to see. “I have the acquisition reports for her family’s company, and this deal has been in the works since before the marriage. All she would want to do while we’re here is go shopping or visit her relatives or meddle, and she’s free to do that on her own time. I don’t have the time or patience for any of those things, and I don’t need her interfering more than she already has.”

                She didn’t answer at first. If he strained to listen when she moved, he could hear the rain hitting her windshield. He let out another breath and smoothed out his pant leg, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. Talking about this was useless. Thinking about this was useless.

                “Assistant Kang.”

                “Yes, Mr. Han?”

                “…how is Elizabeth the 3rd?”

                “She’s doing well. I brought her with me while I went to get coffee before heading to the office.”

                He shifted in his seat again. “How has she liked the room we designated for her in the office?”

                Her voice was almost begrudging, “She seems to enjoy it, I suppose, though I think she would rather be home.”

                Another practiced and immediate response. “I’m not home, so it’s best that I leave her with you.”

                There was another movement over the phone, but he couldn’t quite place the sound. “Annika wanted to take her back when she stopped by,” she said.

                “In between complaining, I assume,” he responded. “She should learn her place.”

                The silence on the other end of the phone was heavy and he realized he was the one that was complaining. This wasn’t her problem to deal with, and this was bordering on unprofessional. Useless. _Useless_.

                “Thank you for not allowing her to take her back to the penthouse,” he told her sincerely.

                “Per your instructions, Mr. Han.”

                Detached, but he expected nothing less. He smoothed his pant leg again, uncrossing his legs as he does. “Let me speak to her, if she’s awake.”

                There was a shift on the other line as the phone moved away, and he heard the plastic of its casing tap against something metal. The rain became louder and constant in the background as he was switched to speaker phone.

                He heard a muffled noise and spoke up, his voice noticeably softer. “Elizabeth the 3rd?”

                Almost immediately there was a small meow. He nearly smiled, settling back in his chair, his shoulders easing. “I trust you’re doing well this morning?” At another contented purr, he added, “Assistant Kang will take care of you. You don’t need to worry about Annika.”

                There was a sound of something moving against the phone, and he decided to imagine it was her rubbing up against it after recognizing his voice. That did bring a smile to his face. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” His tone shifts as he changes his intended audience back to the other individual in the car. “Assistant Kang?”

                The din of the rain stopped as she put the phone back to normal and against her ear. He continued, “I will fill you in later on. You have my schedule, so if there’s an emergency you know best how to reach me. If everything works out, I shouldn’t be gone very long.”

                “Auf Wiedersehen, Mr. Han. Sleep well,” she replied.

                He stood from his seat, fighting a sigh as he did so. “Auf Wiedersehen.”

                He hung up and looked back over the cityscape a moment. Despite it being so late at night, the noise was still constant and the light was still ambient, whether it was from office buildings, hotels, or advertisements. It reminded him of his view from the penthouse and he frowned at that, feeling a dual ache in his chest at being homesick, but not for the home that awaited him when he returned to Seoul. This was for a home he could no longer return to, one sacrificed for his job and for his father’s wishes.

                He checked his phone again and noticed that the previous caller had left a message. Only one this time, and no text messages? She was finally learning restraint. He huffed and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. He drew the long, heavy black curtains for the window and decided to listen to the voicemail she’d left, deigning himself to let her at least have a word. He had barred her from the opportunity to see much of her family by leaving without telling her, so the least he could do was listen to what she had to say, even if it was a recording and he had no intentions of returning her call.

                He placed the phone on the solid oak nightstand and tapped the screen, bringing up the player for his voicemail. After a moment of staring at his keyboard, he realized that he was in the wrong place to put the phone on speaker and accidentally backed out to his home screen. He sighed, picking up the phone properly and trying again, finding the correct button layout this time and tapping it before settling the phone back down and pressing play. The beep of the voicemail started and he stood, starting to undress for bed.

                Her thick accent came through the receiver loud and clear. Even though there was clear disapproval in her words, her cadence was dramatic and light. “Jumin, how could you?! You went off to Germany to see my family and didn’t even think to bring me along? You’re truly a cruel man!”

                Despite the fact that she was upset, she always sounded like she was teasing or putting him on. At first he found it a little amusing, but it became practically demeaning the more times it happened. Her tone almost never matched what she meant, and he never knew how to interpret anything she told him. After months of trying to get her to understand, she never changed, and he was far from caring anymore.

                He unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it off as the message continued. “I mean it, schatzi. My father is going to ask where I am, and he’ll be _appalled_ you didn’t bring his only daughter to come visit! Oh! And my cousins are in town for the month and I just love seeing them,” she began, shifting her tone to something closer to a pout, “but now I’ll have to wait until the next time I visit, and that could be _months_ from now! Do you want to be in your father-in-law’s good graces or don’t you?”

                He pulled his undershirt off and folded it, laying it on the bedspread along with his shirt, wrinkling his nose at the nickname she used. Sometimes it felt like the only time she actually used his real name was when she was angry or sad, but even that wasn’t exactly consistent.

                A little dramatic whine came from the phone before she continued. “Sometimes I think you just want me out of the way. Don’t you love me? I know you miss me.”

                He nearly scoffed, shedding his trousers.

                “We’ve been married for a while and we never spend any time together. Mm, I know you’re busy, you _are_ the heir to the company, so I can understand being away so much, but the penthouse is so empty without you!” He could just make out the sounds of the street as a breeze blew into her receiver. “You work too hard sometimes, schatzi.”

                Naked, he walked over to check the time on the message to see how long this was going to take. Not much longer. He turned to his luggage then to get his pajamas out and change.

                “And that cat! You made a room to keep her at the—ah! Driver Kim!” There was a loud clacking sound of her heels on the sidewalk. Her tone shifted as the noise around her quieted and the car door shut. “Oh, but you don’t want to listen to my nagging. Please, tell my father I love him, at the very least, won’t you? Good luck!”

                With that it ended, and the automated playback voice started to speak, directing him to his next set of options. As he shifted the pants about his hips, he walked over to his phone and promptly deleted the message and backed out of the application. There seemed no point in calling her back. He was up too late as it already stood, and nothing would come from returning her call than being nagged for half an hour with barely any word in edge wise. It would be much easier to deal with it when he got back, as it always was when he left.

                He stopped then, watching as the screen dimmed on his home screen and a weight settled in the pit of his stomach, a sick feeling threatening to crawl up from his bowels and into his throat before he tore away from the encroaching thought. He walked briskly to the bathroom to wash up and closed the door behind him, as if he could block the unpleasantness from coming through the grain in the divider, but it did. It never left, lingering on the edge of his mind in the darkness of a foreign place in a room devoid of anyone else. It seeped from his subconscious at the worst times, when he was alone.

                When had he become just like his father?


	2. Chapter 2

                Saeran could still hear the catty bitching from the hens outside despite the wall and door of the long dressing room sitting firmly between them. As if switching his time to working at night wasn’t bad enough, of course he had to be around the loudest and most obnoxious girls in the company on his shift. He fluffed out his hair as he looked at himself in the long mirror running horizontally along a portion of one wall, sitting down at the far end of the large table underneath it, pulling his bangs back to check the roots of his bright, white hair. Just a slight tinge of red settled along his scalp and he sighed, making a mental note to touch it up either next week or the week after if he was pressed for time. Or his brother could do it if they both had a few minutes to spare at once. As much as he hated to admit it, he was always better than him at this kind of thing.

                The voices suddenly got louder as a figure walked into the room from the opposite corner, her long, straight black hair pooling over her shoulders like ink along her pale skin. As Saeran let his hair back down, he grumbled as she turned the rest of the lights on, the change causing him to squint and blink while his eyes adjusted.

                “You’re gonna go blind, you idiot,” she chastised him, walking over to her locker to retrieve something. “What, does getting ready in the dark enhance your ‘gloomy persona?’ ”

                It was a co-worker, Momoko. She was quieter than the others, but it was an exchange in volume for an unpleasant demeanor. That was a fair trade, though. He kind of liked how unpleasant she was. It was something they had in common. He also knew which buttons to push to irritate her. Well, really just the one button.

                “There are lights around the mirrors, moron, or are you going blind from your old age?” he replied, reaching for a bottle of unscented lotion on the table in front of him, standing with tubes of other kinds of make-up that the other girls would use. He tried some of them once out of curiosity. Never again.

                She scoffed, pulling out some clothes from her locker, leaving it open as she turned to walk closer to the mirror. “Whatever, fuckstick.”

                Saeran shifted on his chair and pumped lotion in his hand, rolling out his left arm to get any material from his tank top out of the way of the tattoo spanning over the outside of his bicep. It was starting to enter the peeling stage, and he hated how gross it was, but the ink was definitely worth it.

                He started to rub the lotion over the tattoo as the older woman stopped a few feet from his right, leaning over to check her make-up in the mirror. He glanced over at her as she pulled at her cheeks, trying to give them a little bit of color before lifting the black jeans she’d taken from her things and flapping them out. Looks like she probably got a call, he figured, judging from her stiff corset and that boring garter belt she was planning to hide under her clothes.

                He looked pointedly at her jeans, then her thin figure. “I always thought men who wanted a mistress would actually want them to be, I don’t know, jacked or something.”

                She didn’t even bother to look at him as she pulled her pants on over her underwear. “Don’t even play like I couldn’t beat the shit out of you.”

                He smirked, his fingers trailing over a raised area of the outline of part of his tattoo. “I don’t know, granny, I could probably take you. That osteoporosis makes you pretty brittle.”

                She rolled her eyes and buttoned up her pants. “Fuck off, twink.”

                His smirk only grew as he pressed against his arm, rubbing over his tattoo with his palm to finish getting the moisturizer into his skin and relieve a little bit of the itch at the same time.

                She sighed, and flung the hair over her shoulder that had fallen forward earlier before grabbing the heart-shaped top of her corset and adjusting it up, trying to give what little bust she had a bit of a push. She spoke up as she turned to check her profile in the mirror, “Haven’t gotten a call yet?”

                “Nope,” he answered, letting his tanktop fall back in place. He moved his bare feet up to the edge of his seat and put his arms over his bent knees. “At this rate my brother’s going to make more money tonight than me.”

                Her cool, dark eyes turned to him then, “What does he do again? Doesn’t he work downtown?”

                Saeran shook his head, looking at his polished nails a moment before letting his hand drop back down. “Cam shit.”

                She snorted. “Whatever floats your boat,” she answered, bending down to slide her small feet into a pair of spiked heels.

                He had to fight to suppress another snide remark. Old-fashioned bitty… “It pays the bills, so I don’t care,” Saeran began, reaching over to one of the blush brushes, picking at the bristles. “People will pay a lot of money to look at a trap and not touch him. Fuck, he’s even gotten gifts sent to his mailbox. Some nice shit too. Like, some regular household things.”

                 She quirked a thin, plucked eyebrow his way before turning to pull on a deep red peacoat, the one she wore when she was meant to meet someone in public first before going anywhere else. It must have been someone new that asked for her. “Regulars can be kinda nice, you know? If they stick with you long enough they sometimes start treating you like a human." She turned to look at him a moment, sliding the coat on. "You never got gifts before or something?”

                Saeran frowned at the question, that old feeling of insecurity bubbling up inside him and he jerked his hand back to himself, turning away from her. His response was sharp and dismissive, “Who cares?”

                She made an amused sound, not at all put off by his sharp change in attitude. “Wow really? A cute little boy like you doesn’t have any admirers? Tragic.”

                This was the point where he didn’t much care for her personality. He already had his twin getting fawned over, he didn't need some old lady mocking him for not being good enough. He didn't need to be reminded what his mother hand always told him, and what his brother was trying to undo.

                Before he could fling some angry insult back at her, the phone rang from the outer room. They all went quiet, Momoko and Saeran both turning to crane their necks toward the dressing room door, hearing it get picked up but not able to make out anything else.

                As she turned back to finish getting ready, Saeran shot her a look before getting up out of the chair and crossing the room, opening the door.

                "Hope it's for you, buddy," Momoko said over her shoulder.

                He huffed, fighting a small smile. Damn crow. "Yeah yeah..."

                He stepped out into the hallway, the walls a rich purple with warm lighting and flowery decorations running along the molding near the ceiling. Stepping down the hallway to his right, away from the entrance way and the small lobby, he opened another door and walked into the lounge area where they could all wait together in between calls or, in his case, while waiting on the first one for the night.

                Two women were sitting on a soft, long couch and both dressed in plain clothes, one with her stripped, blonde hair pulled together in an up-do while the other let her tight ringlet curls lay naturally, only pulled back by a headband to keep it out of her face. They glanced up when Saeran walked in, the first looking away almost immediately with disinterest while the other nodded pleasantly.

                “Hey Saeran,” she said.

                He returned the gesture, “Hey Kat,” before sitting down in the high-backed chair situated near the corner. The other two remained quiet as murmuring came through the office door adjacent to the one he had just come from. He pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged in the seat and waited, hoping for a call.

                The blonde spoke up, wrinkling her nose at him. “Get your feet off the furniture. Were you raised in a barn or something? What’s wrong with you?”

                He looked at her and answered matter-of-factly, “I was raised in a closet.” Before she could look uncomfortable from him mentioning his past abuse, he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, changing the subject. “You get fucked for money and you’re worried about someone’s feet on a chair?”

                She narrowed her eyes, seemingly confused as to how he’d even make that kind of comparison. “What does that even mean? Are you saying I can’t have standards, or that _you_ can't have standards?”

                Now he was confused. “Are you that stupid or jus--?”

                Kat rolled her eyes in exasperation, already fed up with the bickering. “Will you two zip it so I can listen?”

                They both quieted down, Saeran turning to look towards the office door, the only other door in the lounge besides the one leading to the hallway. When he wasn’t able to make out anything other than unintelligible murmurs, he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms in his lap. “Can’t hear anything anyway,” he grumbled.

                He was shushed by the blonde and shot her a dangerous look in turn, one she rebuffed easily by looking away from him, unconcerned. Sometimes it felt like he was going to strangle all of these women if they didn’t get another guy in here on his shifts. Well, except the sea hag. He sighed heavily, dropping back against the seat with a huff. Then again, all the guys all drove him crazy too. At least the worst of his fellow night walkers was out on a job.

                Almost as soon as the phone clacked back on the receiver, the loud chime for the front door opening rang in the lounge. Momoko was probably leaving, he decided, turning his attention forward as the office door opened and the Madam stepped out, her bright blonde hair contrasting nicely against her teal office dress, despite the fact that the only people who almost ever saw her were them and the occasional maintenance man or government worker tasked with checking that everything was to code. It always was.

                She smiled pleasantly at Saeran when she saw him, “Good evening, Saeran.”

                He muttered a greeting in return, his chest tight and anxious, but it sank when she turned to the idiot blonde. “Linda, I have an address for you.”

                He leaned back in his seat, a bit deflated as Linda stood, moving around the table in front of the couch to approach her. As they began to exchange details, a loud sound of clacking heels came stomping swiftly down the hallway. Just as everyone turned to look at the hallway door the woman burst through, face red and make-up smeared just a bit around her eyes.

                Oh good, Saeran thought to himself, the _worst_ one.

                She uttered a frustrated noise, angled her arm up in an arc and flinging her purse across the room, everyone flinching immediately out of the way. The accessory landed anticlimactically against a plush cushion with a very unsatisfying sound.

                “Yvonne, please—,” the Madam tried in a soft tone, reaching out to her, but the woman threw her arms in the air and out of her reach.

                “It’s _every time_ , Madam! Every goddamn time I go it’s the same fucking thing!” she shrilled, turning to slam the door behind her, her auburn hair flinging about as she moved frantically.

                Saeran furrowed his eyebrows and glanced to the only other person sitting in the room, confused. “What the fuck?”

                Kat gave him a knowing look before closing her eyes a moment in exasperation. “She got that one client again, the one that was here in January, remember? That guy that comes around like clockwork and always asks for her.”

                He blinked, somewhat recalling what she was referring to. “Oh. That guy that thought she was shitty and sent her back?” he asked.

                Yvonne didn’t take kindly to that comment, turning to Saeran with fire in her eyes. “Go jump on a dick, you shrimp cock!”

                He smirked even as Linda tried to reel Yvonne in to no avail. She was only acting this way because her pride was hurt, after all. He’d never seen her angry like this before though, even back in January. She was just irritated then, but apparently this guy managed to get under her skin. Or, rather, hadn’t, and that’s what pissed her off.

                “Sounds like you didn’t get to jump on his,” he replied, his eyes shining with mirth, “Damn, I didn’t think you’d want a guy that bad. Is it because he won’t put out?”

                She glared at him and made a move to approach him, looking nearly like her face was going to burst several blood vessels before the Madam caught her arm in a strong grip, bringing her back to Earth.

                “Yvonne.” Her voice was calm and patient, measured like she was dealing with an unruly child on a routine temper tantrum. “Please, take a seat. You’ve been stewing on this the entire drive back. Don’t take it out on Saeran.”

                Before he could don a satisfied grin, she turned her appraising gaze on him and he frowned. “And please, don’t egg her on,” she added, “You aren’t helping.” Despite her wording, her expression was all but gentle.

                He huffed and settled back against his seat now that the excitement was over. Yvonne shook her head and walked over in a stiff gait to pick up her purse from the chair it had landed on. Her shoulders were squared and tight, the sequined fabric of her dress wrinkling slightly between her shoulder blades.

                The Madam turned to Linda and handed her a key card for the place she was being called to. A nearby hotel, but Saeran didn’t see the face to see which one it was. He only caught the purple flower sticker that sat in the corner of all the cards that they used, partially to distinguish them from their client’s but also to help keep track of them. The data on them was always blank, but if the customer requested, they could get a temporary key code from the hotel to access their room during a certain time frame. That was the most popular option, since it made it easier for the client to be more discrete. The Madam preferred it too, for their safety, since there would always be a record of when it was used.

                “Check your email,” she murmured and Linda nodded, turning on her heel to go to the dressing room and get herself ready, not sparing a glance to anyone else as she briskly left the room.

                The Madam turned then to Yvonne, Kat gesturing to tell the fuming woman that she could sit with her on the plush, daffodil-yellow cushions. Yvonne accepted, flopping dramatically on to her seat, Kat reaching up to rub her shoulder reassuringly.

                Their employer spoke up first. “He paid you, I assume?”

                She sighed loudly, “Of course. It’s the only reason I didn’t kill him.”

                Saeran rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. If he could keep himself from pissing her off too much, it would be for the best. Even if he really liked how her angry expression twisted her features. Something about it was really funny.

                “Did he say anything this time?” Kat asked gently. Yvonne started to settle down, a sucker for sympathy.

                “No! Ugh, that asshole just interrupted me and told me to leave!” she started, her whine in full force, “When I tried to ask why, he just called me stupid and said the money was enough! Fucking dick!”

                Saeran snorted and cut himself off when all eyes turned to him with various expressions of disapproval. He was starting to like this guy, whoever he was. He looked away and mussed his hair.

                “Sounds like an asshole,” Kat said, turning her attention back to Yvonne. “I don’t get it though. Why did he ask for you again, specifically? Did he say?”

                Yvonne gave her a look, her eyes half-lidded and her penciled eyebrows curved in a sharp arc as if she were about to tell her something that was going to stun her. “You won’t believe this,” she said, extending her hand, pointer finger up to emphasize her point. “He said he liked ‘routine.’” She shook her hand on each syllable of the word, her bracelets clinking together like a maraca. Her tone could have poisoned small animals.

                Saeran blinked, as did everyone else. What kind of a reason was that? Kat responded in kind, “That…doesn’t make any sense at all.”

                He shifted in his seat, curiosity piqued. Who the hell was this guy? He ordered a girl he was dissatisfied with just because it was what he did last time? This wasn’t even the second time he’d been around, and Yvonne’s reactions to his early dismissals had only continued to escalate. There was something there, he was convinced. It didn’t make sense to throw money around like that. Maybe he was the kind of guy to waste money because he had too much? No, he sounds too uptight for that. Maybe he just liked pissing Yvonne off. He smirked involuntarily at the idea, bringing his hand up to cover it before Yvonne noticed it and went off on him again, if only for the Madam’s sake.

                Yvonne pulled a lock of hair from one of her earrings and turned to her boss, who was patiently waiting on the other side of the desk. After a moment she sighed and snapped open her pocket book in her lap, taking out a folded up wad of cash from her billfold. She thrust the money out to her for her to take. “Here.”

                She took it and counted over it, handing some of the bills back to Yvonne. As the anger dampened from her rigid posture, Yvonne looked seriously at the Madam as she put her cash back in her purse. “The next time he calls, I’m not going. I’m sick of this stupid shit. Unlike _some_ people,” she glanced with a wrinkled nose to the hallway door before looking back, “I don’t get off on being fucking humiliated.”

                The Madam’s posture changed slightly, her hands coming round to intertwine in front of her, her arms hanging loose. “He has already requested a booking for Tuesday.”

                Everyone’s heads snapped to the Madam in shock and various expressions of disbelief. Yvonne’s nose pinched as her eyes bulged in shock. “ _What!?_ ”

                “It seems his trip here is going to be longer than the last few,” she continued, unperturbed, “So he scheduled another night.”

                “When?”

                She checked the clock on the wall before looking at Yvonne again, “About thirty minutes ago.”

                “When I was coming back!?” She let out a loud, frustrated sound and pinched her nose between her fingers, careful not to scratch her face with her long nails. She dropped her hand and gestured with it, looking at her again. “I’m serious this time. If I never see that asshole and his unimpressive dick again it’ll be too soon.”

                She received a nod of understanding. “I will tell him we must send someone else. Let me check the others around that time on Tuesday and I can see who will go instead.”

                “Thank you, Madam,” she murmured, grateful, letting her hand fall to her lap and her head fall to the cushion behind her, relief finally starting to edge its way into her joints.

                “I think Tuesday is…” Kat started, finally moving her hand off of Yvonne’s shoulder, ticking each name off with a finger, “Myself, Yvonne, Momoko, Saeran, Eva, and Henry." She dropped her hands, spinning a thick ring around her thumb. "I know Momoko is booked, and so is Henry.”

                “Eva is out of the question. She’s new, and I don’t want to send her to someone like this so soon,” the Madam rebuffed with a sigh, untangling her fingers. She turned and walked back to her office to get the schedule.

                Kat sighed, rubbing her face, “I guess I’m the only one.”

                Saeran shifted down in his chair, laying sideways as he threw his legs partially over one of the armrests, pushing back into a pillow that sat against the other side so he could look better at Kat and Yvonne. “ ‘S he like dudes?”

                She turned to him, her curls bouncing with the sharp movement, “Are you actually volunteering??” At his lackadaisical shrug, she added, “Man, are you sure?”

                Yvonne scoffed from beside her, “You just want to one up me.”

                Saeran looked at her with mild disgust, “Don’t flatter yourself.” Before she could snipe back at him, he responded to Kat instead, “Yeah. Why not?”

                There was a moment of silence at his question before Yvonne made a dismissive sound. “I don’t think he likes guys anyway,” she said.

                He turned away from the both of them, gently kicking his feet as they hung over the side of the chair. “Why? You ask if he likes dicks? Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fuck you.”

                A frustrated sound came from her direction but he didn’t really care. Kat murmured something reassuring to calm her down. Yvonne started talking again, but it was quieter and not directed at him, so Saeran’s mind started to drift, only picking up bits and pieces as he brought his thumb to press against his teeth. He had two regulars that normally booked early int he week, but almost always at the last minute. But, money wasn’t really the issue. If whoever this guy was didn’t like guys and sent him off without paying him, it wouldn’t be a big loss anyway. The kind of guy that would stick to a routine schedule despite it being unfulfilling... That came around every few months for short periods of time… Had no qualms with insulting Yvonne but didn’t use her being shitty as a reason not to pay her...

                He caught himself grinning, excited and anxious. This wasn’t the kind of job he took to actually meet people. In truth, he didn’t get along with many people at all, nor did he find most people all that interesting. The job served the purpose of using something he was good at and letting him get paid for it without forcing him to be shoved onto a set with a shitty crew and having to pretend like he liked the people he had to fuck that day. His brother could fit into a niche for the cam industry, and trying to go that angle seemed pretty redundant, so this was the best option. Besides, he could charge more since male prostitutes like him were rare, so that was a bonus. Even if he had to suffer these hens all the time, it wasn’t too big of a deal. His clients were all unique in their own ways, but in the end they were just lonely guys wanting sex, pretty standard sex at that. Maybe this guy was too, but at the same time, at least he was...well, he _appeared_ to be interesting.

                Kat’s comforting voice stirred him from his thoughts just as the office door opened. “...just a married, lonely, foreign businessman like the rest. You won’t have to see him again.”

                The Madam spoke up, getting everyone’s attention. “I checked Tuesday. Kat, if you would be so kind...”

                Yvonne interrupted her, “Saeran wants a jump.” Before the possibility of her saying it for his sake could cross his mind, she added with a contemptuous air, “Guess he’s desperate for calls.”

                He flipped her off without even bothering to look at her. His boss turned to him, hesitant. “He has never called for anyone but Yvonne. You know I can’t send you.”

                He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Can’t you ask?”

                “It will be bad enough telling him that his specifications can’t be met when I already booked her for him,” she explained. “We know he likes routine, so this I going to already be a blow.”

                Kat shrugged, “I can go, ma’am, don’t worry about it.”

                “Or just don’t tell him...” Saeran grumbled.

                The Madam gave him a stern look as Yvonne barked out a laugh. “Hah! I’d love to see his face when he shows up and he finds _you_ there! He’d be so pissed!”

                He sneered at her, “God you’re pathetic. You’re fucking obsessed.  Just admit it already”

                The smile fell from her face like a stone into water and she glared at him, their boss stepping in before it could escalate. She turned to Saeran, the light from the ceiling causing her golden hair to shine, “Do I need to recite our motto to remind you?”

                He let out a forceful sigh as he made sure not to roll his eyes at her. “A business in the pursuit of making people happy. Yeah yeah, I know.”

                “Then don’t test me,” she said. There was no room for argument behind her topaz eyes and he kept his mouth shut, recognizing the cement wall before he hit it.

                He turned away from her, begrudging. “Yes, Madam,” he muttered.

                “Thank you,” she replied, before turning to Kat and Yvonne. “He likes you to be there before he arrives to his hotel room. I’ll set his key card in your locker on Tuesday, or you can come by and get it from me.”

                Yvonne fished hers out and holds it up. “Can’t she just take mine?”

                The Madam considered it for a moment before answering, “Yours should have already expired, but I can put it in my desk for now.”

                She dutifully handed the card to her and she put it away in her pocket, Saeran side-eyeing the exchange before closing his eyes and gently kicking his feet again.

                “He also mentioned something about clothing. Try to wear something...modest,” she added. Yvonne blinked and head tilted, confused. She shrugged in answer and Yvonne just rolled her eyes.

                Kat nodded. “Okay. Are there any other instructions I should know about?” Kat asked, trying not to sound too negative about the entire incident. It was clear in her tone that she wasn’t looking forward to this, and that only irritated Saeran more. He actually _wanted to_ , but of course there was too much risk in offense in sending him, or even asking about it. He frowned, feeling a little sick at the idea, even if he was used to that fact by now.

                As Yvonne settled back on to the cushion, leaning over to start undoing the straps for her shoes, she answered, “Just do what he tells you to. He doesn’t like repeating himself, so if he says for you to do something, just do it. He likes obedience, I guess.”

                Kat hummed. “Oh, one of those...”

                Saeran smirked slightly, rolling a bit to rest against the pillow under his neck as his mind started to drift, tuning out the rest of their conversation. Uptight, businessman, liked obedience, married, and blunt.

                Shit, no wonder he keeps sending her back, he thought to himself, already deciding on a plan of action for Tuesday. She's too fucking _boring_.

 

 ***

 

                Finally exiting the cab after what felt like an eternity in traffic, Jumin tipped the driver well along when he paid his bill and walked out onto the sidewalk, straight into the pouring rain, umbrella already deployed and in hand. He shut the door behind him after grabbing his briefcase and made the short trek to the front doors of his hotel, tired from the last few days. Between legitimate meetings in boardrooms, meetings during lunch and dinner, and all together having to spend time with a family that approved of him on a surface level, in regards to money and temperament, he had no desire to be anywhere but back in his room.

                As he ducks under the awning to the entrance of the hotel and shakes out his umbrella, he’s doubly glad that he hadn’t brought Annika along. He would have no peace at all, nor patience for where it counted most, with her father and his executives. He would be stretched far too thin for him to properly do his job, and he couldn't risk something like that when he'd sacrificed as much as he has for it. This was business, and business required dedication, patience, and saying the right thing at the precise times. If anything, he was only sad that he hadn’t brought Elizabeth the 3rd, but Annika would have been even more upset if he had done that. No, this was the best arrangement, he assured himself. His assistant would take care of her, allbeit begrudgingly, and he could rest knowing that she would be safe with her. Besides, he’d be back in Seoul in no time...

                He carded his fingers through his hair as he walked into the lobby, his wing tipped shoes tapping wet against the sleek, intricate branching colors in the marble tiling. The lobby area was large and outfitted with exquisite furniture and amenities, appropriate for a high-end hotel that specifically catered to people just like him. He glanced over towards a seating area decorated in rocco style furnishings and noticed a few men of varying shapes and sizes all dressed to the nines, conversing about something that sounded incredible unimportant. Practically a picture for the next advertisement.

                “Sir!”

                He turned to the desk of the lobby where a woman with brown hair tired up in a tight bun wearing a pantsuit was making eye contact with him. She tapped the registry with a metal pen and he turned, walking briskly to the counter, his umbrella dripping sporadically as he did.

                “There was a call at the front desk for you,” she explained politely as he got close enough to speak to her comfortably.

                He frowned, unable to figure out how would call the hotel instead of him. “Strange. Did they leave a name?”

                “A Miss Violet, sir?”

                His frown deepened, caught a bit off guard. She wasn’t supposed to call the hotel lobby; she always called his personal phone. This slip up was…uncharacteristic of her. Was there a problem with the arrangements they’d made?

                “Was there a message?” he asked almost hesitantly, shaking out his hand to pull his sleeve up, glancing at his wrist watch. His appointment for Tuesday should already have arrived.

                “No. No number, either,” she answered. It was clear she was clueless. Good. “It came from a private line.”

                He nodded, dropping his hand again. “I know who it is. Thank you, I’ll return the call soon,” he informed her.

                After a polite nod, he left for the elevator and hit the up arrow, the elevator across from him opening immediately. The ride up was short, but it was long enough for an uneasy feeling to settle in his gut. She had always put discretion above everything else, insisting on clients having code names and her workers exchanging names only if they had to. Most of the people that called for her company’s services were particularly wealthy people with important reputations, himself included, so her emphasis on discretion had always been her highest priority. Besides, they'd met before she'd even started her...call service, so if anyone knew how important that was to him, she would. For her to call the hotel lobby… Something didn’t feel right.

                He stepped off the elevator on to his floor and made his way down to his suite, the black, gold and cream color scheme extending from the marbled lobby through the hall carpet and decor. She had called before and informed him of the other woman not being able to be there, which didn’t entirely surprise him. She _had_ threatened not to return, though she did that last time and came back anyway. He supposed that last time actually was the last straw. That or a few days was too soon for her to calm down and prioritize his money over her pride, where three months was a good enough time. Well, at least for tonight, he would simply have to adjust to someone else. The thought made him frown, but perhaps in the long run, if she is truly fed up, it could be a good thing. As long as the woman they sent was good at following directions, he figured there would be no problem. Maybe she'll even be better than her predecessor.

                When he approached his door he hesitated a moment, readying himself to have to go through the motions of spelling out what she would do, how, and where. Attempting to quell that unease, he let out a breath and opened the door, walking in to find the room already dimmed, the rain slanted by the wind just right to hit his balcony and the furniture there, just shy of hitting the glass on the windows and the door. The sound was loud in the room and his furnishings did little to absorb the sound. The chair he had set in the corner had been moved to sit square with the windows looking outside with a figure sitting there, facing back towards the door, their arms folded over the back of the chair and leaning on top of them. He couldn’t see entirely well thanks to the light from the balcony being brighter than the light in the room, but he could tell they had unnaturally colored short hair, and at least wore a jacket and form-fitting jeans. Well, he _had_ emphasized modest dress this time.

                He let the door shut behind him and shrugged off his outer jacket, hanging it and the umbrella in the foyer area and kicking his shoes off, leaving them all to dry for the night. He noticed a pair of high top boots thrown in the corner before turning back to the near silhouette in his room. “I suppose you’re the replacement,” he said, reaching to undo the buttons on his shirt sleeves as he made a move to step into the main room. “If that’s the case, I need to give you some instructions.”

                The answer made him stop cold, his heart clenching in his chest at the simultaneous surprise and trickle of cold dread down his spine. He could barely make out a smirk crossing the figure’s face as they sat up straighter, bright disheveled hair catching the light from the balcony in an eerie manner.

                “Oh, _please_ mister,” he said in a coy tone, “Give me your instructions.”

                That was not the voice of a woman. He frowned, stepping quickly to turn the dimmer up so the entire room was filled with light. “Who are you?” he demanded.

                He winced a little bit, squinting his teal-colored eyes against the bright light, but adjusted quick enough, squaring his face on Jumin’s. He hesitated a moment as he looked over his face before gesturing vaguely to himself and reaching into his jacket, pulling out a key card for the hotel with a purple sticker on the corner.

                “Your replacement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta. Comments and Critique appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> No Beta. Comments and Critique are appreciated!


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